Her Pretty Boy
by StormWolf10
Summary: After Rose tells the Doctor about a drunk she encountered in the early hours of 2005, he begins pondering about Rose's pretty boys. When he begins to regenerate, he decides that Rose has a type. A type he certainly isn't, not yet... In which I'm pretty sure the Doctor becomes a paradox... Spoilers for The Parting of the Ways and The End of Time pt II.


**A/N: Because I wanted to try writing 9. I don't think it went very well, but ah well. Read and review, let me know please!**

Curled up on the control room chair, dressed in pyjama shorts and a vest top with the Doctor's leather jacket around her- "If you're cold, Rose, why don't you go and put something else on?" "Because these are my pyjamas!"- Rose Tyler licked her lips, taking a deep breath. Here it goes, she decided.

"Doctor?" Rose asked nervously, watching as the Doctor worked beneath the TARDIS console, buried up to his waist in wires "Do you… Do you believe in destiny?"

"Destiny?" the Doctor called back.

Rose could almost hear the frown in his voice. Moments later, he slid from beneath the console, brushing imaginary dirt off his jumper and frowning at his young companion.

"There… There was this man once," Rose piped up suddenly "on the Powell Estate. Only ever saw him there once, thought he was lost. New Year, it had just turned 2005. He asked me what year he was. Must've been _really_ drunk…"

She trailed off at that, giggling slightly before sobering at the Doctor's arched eyebrow. He always looked so serious.

"Anyway, after that, he… He told me something. He said 'I bet you're gonna have a really great year'. And… He was right."

At that, the Doctor scoffed.

"It was probably a coincidence, Rose." The Doctor told her "Like you said, he was drunk. Probably flashed half the estate too."

At that, Rose's shoulders slumped.

"Yeah," Rose murmured "I guess you're right."

**~StormWolf10~**

The Doctor had thought that Rose had forgotten the whole 'destiny' thing about the drunken stranger, until Jack brought it up one evening. The ex-Time Agent had only been travelling with them for a few weeks, but Rose seemed enthralled by him. It was probably the cheekbones, the Doctor decided, the cheekbones and dimples. Not that he cared. Not that he wanted Rose's affections directed at him.

"So, Doc, what do you make of Rose's tall, dark and handsome stranger, huh?" Jack smirked.

The Doctor blinked, glancing up from the TARDIS console.

"I'm sorry?" he asked in confusion.

"The 'destiny' guy." Jack continued "The one who told her she'd have a great year."

The Doctor blinked again before turning to look at Rose, who'd ducked her head.

"You didn't mention _handsome_ last time." The Time Lord told his human companion carefully, keeping his voice level.

"Didn't I? Well, it was dark, I never did get a proper look at him." Rose shrugged, blushing.

"But you know he was a pretty boy, huh?" the Doctor asked, brow furrowing.

Again, Rose shrugged, not meeting his gaze.

"He… He was tall, lotsa messy hair… Freckles. He looked really pale though, ill… Long coat, old trainers… Sounded like he was from London, but not the estates I reckon, must have gotten lost on his way home from a party."

The Doctor snorted and returned to the console, muttering something about 'stupid apes' as he did so.

**~StormWolf10~**

The Doctor blinked, looking down at Rose, who was passed out on the floor of the console room. This may be the last time he saw her through these eyes, he realised sadly. It was the end of the road for him, time to get rid of this old body with its big ears and short hair and brooding. Maybe, just maybe, when he regenerated, he could… Nah, it was stupid. The Doctor brushed the thought away, turning to flick some switches on the console. The room seemed so quiet, with none of Rose's laughter or Jack's risqué stories filling the air. And it wouldn't again. Well, not the sound of Jack's voice, anyway. He was… gone. Alive, yes, but he couldn't return to the TARDIS, he was… _Wrong_. And Rose, well… The Doctor was very much aware that he'd never explained to her about regeneration before. And then the idea was back, that stupid, ape-like idea. He'd never tried controlling his regenerations before, had never really had a preference as to what he looked like- although he would like to be ginger one day-, but he knew it possible to somewhat control the process. Maybe, just maybe, if he concentrated hard enough, he could make himself… nice for Rose. She seemed to have a type, his Rose, all dimples and dark hair and cheeky grins. And then there was that 'destiny' pretty boy of hers, the drunken ape who'd told her to have a good year. Rose didn't talk about him often, but when she did, the Doctor could always tell that the memory was burned in her mind; it was important to her, that drunk telling her some random nonsense. For reasons the Doctor couldn't fathom, it was such an important moment for Rose. Even Rose herself had admitted that she didn't know why, but she'd felt… drawn to him. Shaking his head, the Doctor thought about the task in hand, feeling the familiar burn of regeneration starting in his fingertips. He could do that, for Rose. Make himself one of her pretty boys. He could be her pretty boy. There was a noise, and the Doctor looked up from the console to see Rose sitting up. He plastered on a smile.

"What happened?" Rose asked, sitting up.

"Don't you remember?" The Doctor asked.

Rose shook her head, looking around the console room with a frown.

"It's like there was this singing."

The Doctor grinned again, beginning to spin a tale of him singing and the Daleks running away. But then the grin dropped, as he caught sight of the darkening of his skin, felt his regeneration growing nearer. And then he was- somewhat haltingly telling Rose about the process. He caught himself referring to it as 'dodgy', and that 'you never know what you're going to end up with'. _No_, he thought wryly, _you don't_. _But you can have a damn good try_. The pain was getting worse, he managed to ground out that he was dying, not missing the terrified look on his Rose's face. He knew he had to say it, that he was running out of time.

"And before I go-" he began, teeth gritted.

"Don't say that." Rose cut in, wide-eyed.

The Doctor ignored her, ploughing onwards.

"Rose, before I go, I just want to tell you, you were fantastic. Absolutely fantastic. And do you know what? So was I!"

And then, the fire engulfed him, burning him, inside-out. He grit his teeth against the pain, forced himself to concentrate. _Pretty boy_, his head chanted, _make sure you're a pretty boy. For Rose. Maybe then she'll return your feelings. _What was it Rose had said about that drunken pretty boy? _Tall. _The fire burned through him_. Messy hair. _He could feel his body changing. _Freckles. _It was almost done, it was so quick, and so painful…_ Her accent, remember her accent, use it, take it, remember it… _The Doctor gasped as the regeneration energy finally stopped. He stumbled back a step or two, shocked. For a brief moment, he wondered if he'd done Rose proud, becoming a pretty boy for her.

"Hello!" He grinned "Ooh, new teeth. That's weird…"


End file.
